“Would we have?” I asked. “If you had managed to mate with an anthro, would you have dared to tell our king? Either of our kings?”
“I would never attempt such action,” Hwedo answered. “Anyone who has studied the anthro physiology as closely as I have would know that even if they did somehow take our seed, it would be impossible for them to carry it to term. Their pelvises simply are not designed to bear such weight.”
Hwedo issued his answer immediately, but Ao Quong noticed that Amaru had not. “Lead Agriculturalist, do you have anything to say upon this subject?” he asked, reverting to the old former of addressing his fellow drakkon by their mission title.
Amuru frowned at Hwedo, then turned back to Ao Quong. “Not everyone knew as much as the Lead Researcher about the anthros. And having no access to this information, if a drakkon’s male works were to descend for a maiden, he naturally would have chosen to mate her. And if that were the case, I imagine the end result might have been…” Amaru lowered his eyes to the still water below the bridge before finishing with, “Tragic.”
“Well, I would not call such an ending tragic,” Hwedo insisted, his tone testy. “Any drakkon whose male works descended for an anthro should have consulted with me before attempting such action.”
Yes, Hwedo was a consummate intellectual, Ao Quong thought to himself. But unfortunately, not when it came to emotions.
“I understand why you chose to approach me with this proposition,” Ao Quong said, casting a sympathetic look in Amaru’s direction. “But I am guessing you have not checked your messages since your arrival in this zone.”
Amaru looked up from the water and Hwedo once again scrunched his brow, asking, “No, I haven’t checked my messages since yesterday. How did you know?”
“Because I received a quite interesting one from Damianos this morning. It was a directive to all drakkon to join him at his Zone 4 estate next week…for a celebration.”
“A celebration?” Hwedo repeated. “A celebration for what?”
Ao Quong tilted his head, slowly as drakkon are wont to do. “In truth, I am not sure,” he answered. “But perhaps we should shelve this topic and revisit it after we find out.”
Chapter Twelve
So that happened.
This isn’t the first private drone ride I’ve taken. But it is the first time I’ve flown in a hypersonic drone wearing a robe, pajamas, and my narwhal slippers. Carrying a baby. And you know, sitting across from my fathers’ mortal enemy.
I feel….
Half-stunned. Half-what the hell did I just do?
I can’t stop thinking about the look on my father’s faces before we flew away. So much fear…and disappointment.
Were they right? Was I crazy to run away with him?
The answers to those two questions come back clear and scary bright. Probably and Yes, Ola girl, you are definitely out your goddamn mind.
Holding Bazzi close, I look toward the front of the drone where Damianos is. He’s sitting by himself in a throne seat so large and plush, it had to have been custom built to accommodate his extra-large size.
He changed into a suit he pulled out of the drone’s closet after shifting back from his dragon. But his eyes…he must have lost his contacts somewhere along the way. They were now bright gold and glowing. Just like Other Damianos, only a little dimmer.
In any case, sitting on his custom throne seat he looks exactly like what he is…a titan of both business and state.
An unconquerable force.
And it feels like he’s putting both literal and physical space between us on purpose. Showing me how larger than life he is and how small of an underdog I am.
If not for the baby in my arms, I might have spent that whole plane ride in my own thoughts, silently regretting what I’ve done. But after a couple of hours of watching landforms zip by impossibly fast through the drone’s glass floor, I force myself to get up and approach him. He appears to be busy at work, using the throne seat tray table’s touchscreen. The device’s OLED light casts the sharp planes of his face in harsh shadows.
Real Talk 100, it feels like walking up on a supervillain. No, Damianos deserves an upgrade after ripping his shackles off like they were paper and breaking through that translucent iron window. Megavillain. It feels like I’m walking up on a megavillain.
But I’ve promised myself to this megavillain, so I take a deep breath and tell him, “The baby’s going to need something to eat whenever we get back to your place.”
A hard beat of silence, then his eyes flicker down to our son, still peacefully snoozing away in my arms after having missed our great escape.
That’s great for me, I figure. The last thing my current situation needs is a mad baby on top of it. But… “He’s going to be hungry when he wakes up. Can you make sure there’s formula for him wherever you’re taking us?” I ask Damianos.